June 16, 201406 14 14_2152

In the course of your life, there are certain moments that you remember as clearly as if they happened yesterday. Some are big moments, but most of them are small.  And this weekend, at Tony Bennett Basketball Camp, was one of those moments for Jack.  And for me.

But not for the reason you think.

Despite his most fervent desire, the idea that Jack would even be able to attend a college basketball camp was a stretch at best because of a rare disease no one has heard of (for more read here).  But this one – 2 half days with parents in attendance – seemed like the best shot we’d ever have to give him this dream.  Way too often in my younger life, I preemptively said no to things that I suspected I couldn’t do.  And that was the safe thing to be sure.  But I also regret that I didn’t just try some things, even if they would have ended up with me unable to walk for days. Read more...

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When I was a kid, the end of the school year was brutal. I was ready for a languid, lazy summer by mid-April.  My brain, which generally fired on all 4 cylinders, was limping toward the finish line on a flat tire and a crappy suspension. The days were warm and my feet were sore.  The idea of finishing my diorama on Jamestown was more torturous than being trapped in a pit of snakes.

Turns out I still feel that way.

The moms who drove our carpool back then must have sensed this fatigue because at least once a week that last month of school, one of them would stop on the way home and get us Slurpees. Everyone had a favorite concoction. Mine was a Coke Slurpee with a thin layer of cherry in the middle. Read more...

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It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog

It’s that time of year. The warm weather spells a deathknell for all sorts of fun for our family. Warm weather means blisters. Lots of them. Warm weather means the carefree running around that the boys and I enjoy in the cold must be once again shelved until the winter months return. When it’s 90 degrees, even walking through the parking lot causes blisters.

I can handle it. I know my limitations. I know when to say “no I can’t do that” – even if I really want to. I know how to be okay with being different. I know that it made me stronger – even if it hurt in the process.  I know how to compartmentalize disappointment and pain.  I’ll survive. Read more...

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Wolfman Jack

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Sometimes Jack gets blue that his blisters will prevent him from even getting the chance to score the go-ahead touchdown or winning basket. As a parent, it is heartbreaking to see your child limited not by his talent, but by some genetic flaw that you passed down to him.

So it’s crazy cool to have moments like this . . . when he finds his groove in a different arena. It’s doubly cool for me since that arena is the same stage on which I performed 20 years ago.


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